


Value to Survival

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Break Up, Caring, Developing Relationship, Dinner, Dorks in Love, Drama & Romance, Emotional Baggage, F/M, First Kiss, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Loyalty, Partying, Pining, Pre-Earth Transformers, Pre-Relationship, Protectiveness, Romantic Fluff, Self-Esteem Issues, Shyness, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 18:42:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10927743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: He had never liked the mech and he could tell the others had been uneasy about him too, but Moonracer had been so taken with him that no one could warn her without hurting her feelings, so they had let him into their closely-knit fold. And for what? To break her spark?When Moonracer is left alone in the wake of a bad breakup, Powerglide feels the need to step in and make it right. She deserves nothing less.





	Value to Survival

“Moonracer…I’m sorry, but I think we both know this isn’t working.”

The words carried further than they were probably meant to. Powerglide drummed his fingers lightly against the table, keeping them busy so they wouldn’t clench into fists—or worse, clench around that idiot’s neck. What kind of glitch broke it off with a femme at her honorary sister’s creation party? Chromia was currently on the dance floor, cradled lovingly by _her_ sweetspark—which was sure to make Moonracer feel even worse.

At the very least he’d taken her aside to do it, so Powerglide couldn’t see Moonracer’s face, but he had a feeling it wasn’t wearing that pretty smile she was so well-known for. Drumming his fingers more quickly, he peeked over at them in time to see Moonracer sink down into a nearby chair, shaking her helm a little and knitting her fingers together in her lap. If she was saying anything, he couldn’t hear.

 _I hope she isn’t. He doesn’t even deserve a goodbye, the fragger,_ Powerglide mused, anger prickling through every nervecircuit. He had never liked the mech—he was almost willing to admit that he could have been _jealous_ of him—and he could tell the others had been uneasy about him too, but Moonracer had been so taken with him that no one could warn her without hurting her feelings, so they had let him into their closely-knit fold.

And for what? To break her spark? Elita and Optimus had been together as long as anyone could remember, Chromia and Ironhide almost just as long. Inferno wasn’t quite at the point where he could admit his feelings to Firestar, but anyone could see him pining—even Firestar herself. Moonracer deserved just as much as any of them. Where did this mech get off telling her, “Sorry, so long”?

Powerglide was on his feet before his processor registered it. Moonracer didn’t look up as he approached, but she did notice when he sat across from her. “You want to get some fuel?” he asked, hoping there wasn’t as much of an edge to his tone as there was to his thoughts.

The femme’s optics were overly bright when she looked up at him. “Why? Are you feeling sorry for me?” she accused.

 _Yes! You deserve better!_ “Nope, nothing like that,” he explained with an offhand shrug. “You’re upset and I’m hungry. I just think you should…I don’t know, get outta here for a while. Could do you some good!” He watched her swallow and glance away, tears threatening to spill over, and promptly began to backpedal. “You—you don’t have to go with me if you don’t want to. That’s fine—”

“No, no,” she cut him off, sounding more than a little frustrated at no one in particular. “Let’s get some fuel. That sounds…nice, I guess.” She cast a strained glance over at the dance floor and he waved a hand to stop her, assuring her that he would make sure Chromia knew where they had gone and then catch up with her. Nodding despondently, Moonracer pulled the other femme’s gift out of her subspace, set it on a nearby table and then made a quick exit through the back.

Ironhide seemed to sense something was wrong as Powerglide approached, so he allowed Inferno to take Chromia for a dance and came to meet him. “What’s up, buddy?” he asked in a low voice, underneath the music. “’Racer alright?”

“He dumped her,” Powerglide snapped. “Right over there, right in front of me.”

Ironhide didn’t seem too startled by this revelation; it had only been a matter of time. Optics narrowing, he glared at the door the fragger had used to make his escape. “I’m of half a mind t’bring him back an’ have a little conversation about that,” he remarked testily. “An’ Chromes might have fun gettin’ in on it.”

“As much as I’d love to see that,” the Minibot continued wryly, “I’m taking Moonracer for a drink.” Ironhide’s expression changed completely, a broad grin threatening to surface, and the flyer added hastily, “As a _friend_ who’s there to comfort her.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be more’n good at that!” Ironhide teased, to which Powerglide scowled and waved him off, taking his leave.

Moonracer was waiting for him outside and from the looks of it, she had done her best to retake her usual cheerful demeanor; she perked up, smiling when she saw him. It didn’t live up to her signature beam (by a long road), but he let it slide. If pretending was what she needed to do right now, he wanted to give her that.

He took her to a nearby restaurant he often frequented after training with some of his fellow aerial showmechs. Usually their arrival meant the volume near the front counter increased exponentially, but this time, thinking fast, he chose a discreet corner booth. Moonracer seemed to appreciate that, looking around at the brassy, gleaming chrome décor and perhaps something else.

“I hope you’re paying,” she commented matter-of-factly. “I don’t know if they’d accept a grounder’s credits.”

Powerglide was a bit startled. Moonracer usually wasn’t one to make a remark like that, but as he followed her gaze, he noticed that every single one of the other tenants had wings, not wheels. The fact that he was grouped in with them achieved what he thought was impossible: it made him strangely uncomfortable.

“That—that doesn’t matter here,” he informed her cautiously. “But I planned on payin’ anyway.”

After the server took their order, a heavy silence fell, something Powerglide wasn’t used to. It was a sure sign that Moonracer was feeling out of sorts; for as long as he’d known her, she had been something of a chatterbox, but now her optics were fixed on the table between them.

“You alright?” Powerglide ventured, regretting the words as soon as they were out of his mouth.

“It doesn’t _matter_ if I am or not, at least not to him!” Moonracer proclaimed angrily, her voice catching. “It’s always the same: somehow I’m the one at fault, but they don’t tell me what I’m doing wrong—that or the whole reason anyone gets close to me is to get close to one of my sisters! I should’ve listened to them; I should know better than to think _anyone_ would want…” She trailed off, pursing her lips tightly against the end of her sentence. “Never mind. Can we just…talk about something else?”

As relieved as Powerglide was that she wasn’t directing her anger at him, that half-finished phrase stuck with him, nagging at his mind through the whole outing. They discussed her aspirations to be a performer and his success as one. He told her stories about his coworkers and students and was delighted to find that she laughed genuinely.

Did she think she wasn’t _wanted?_ Powerglide wondered as they began making their way back to Chromia’s party. By now Moonracer’s spirits had been lifted enough that she could be better company, but the thought of the hurt hiding behind her smile made him feel like he’d been kicked in the middle.

He had…some experience with those kinds of feelings. They were ugly, painful things that he channeled into his most flamboyant stunts, but there was no getting around the fact that some stayed behind. There was a reason he wore a facemask, after all: for protection from more than just the high-altitude winds.

Impulsively he stopped her before she could reach for the door. Moonracer glanced at him questioningly as he pulled her back a few steps, squeezing her hands firmly.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I just need to tell you that—” He faltered then, looked down for several kliks, and then hurriedly, decisively retracted his mask. Moonracer shifted back a little, startled, and he ex-vented, starting again. “I just need to tell you that you’re a great femme. You’re sweet, loyal and funny and you think about others first, and just because a lot of mechs are too bit-brained to appreciate it doesn’t mean you’re not _good_ and _important_.”

Moonracer blinked a few times, slowly withdrawing her hands from his. “I…Thank you,” she managed, tentative. “That’s nice of you to say.”

“I’m not just being nice!” Powerglide protested, dismayed at the disbelief he heard in her voice. “You _are_ and I just need you to—” Unable to find any more words for it, he took her hands a second time, pulled her close and kissed her.

He felt her flinch, felt the shock in her EM field, and a thousand thoughts ran through his mind: _Is it too much? What the frag am I doing? Why am I—? This is so dumb of me—Y’know what, I don’t even care!_ He had started it as a way of proving his point, but it was becoming a kiss that had him moving his hands to her face, cradling it and hoping, praying. Within a few kliks, her arms came around the small of his back and stayed there until, by sheer strength of will, he pulled away.

For a long minute, they simply stared at each other and then Powerglide ducked his helm, resealing his mask and looking off to her right. He had gone too far, he was sure.

“Are you…ever going to do that again?” she asked shakily.

He hesitated for a moment more before forcing himself to brave a glance upward. She looked more confused than judgmental, which gave him just that much more courage to counter, “Would you let me?”

She ex-vented, glancing around and smoothing down her plating before offering a quick, jerky shrug and an incredulous laugh. “Y’know what? I—I think I might.”

Well…He could certainly say that wasn’t the answer he had expected.

**Author's Note:**

> I will forever ship MoonGlide, no matter what anyone says! <3
> 
> I've decided to challenge myself this week to write a oneshot a day, so here's my Tuesday fluff for you all. I hope you liked it! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
